


Patterns of Wanting

by lishesque



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Balcony Scene, F/F, First Kiss, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lishesque/pseuds/lishesque
Summary: Five months after Cat Grant left CatCo, Kara still hasn't stopped wanting her. 
Small canon divergence after 2x02.





	

Even now when she looked up at the sky, it was part of a familiar pattern of wanting. Something about those nights with Cat on the balcony had infused all future nights with longing, and now, when Kara looked upon the stars, she only saw Cat’s absence.

She’d promised that she’d be back, and Kara had believed her.

The first week had been hard but hope-tinged. Kara checked her phone breathlessly whenever it buzzed, and Alex, unable to bear the constant disappointment in her sister’s eyes, eventually showed Kara how to customize her alerts.

The second week, when Snapper’s brusque dismissal of an article Kara had been _sure_ was good left her almost in tears, she’d ended up in front of Cat’s office. Kara hadn’t been to the 40th floor since Cat left and the ghost of her presence still lingered. The smell of the carpet, the familiar faces around her, even the way the sunlight hit the building from this angle reminded Kara of a time lost to her now. She wondered how many more weeks would have to pass before the space would feel right again.

For months, Kara missed Cat with a simple kind of longing that had become familiar to her. She’d worn grooves into the routine of missing Cat so that it was quite normal, for a time, to walk into Noonan’s in the morning, order a latte and spend the short walk back to CatCo believing she was going to place it in Cat’s hand.

She couldn’t remember what day or month it was when she stopped thinking of it as Cat’s latte and realized it was her own.

Kara had been away on a Cadmus-related crisis the first time Cat came back to attend a board meeting. She’d only missed her by an hour and it had taken all of her willpower not to simply fly out after Cat. But then she’d reminded herself that Cat hadn’t replied to her letter or the three text messages. She reminded herself that she was no longer supposed to be that lovelorn, sweet, dutiful assistant to Cat Grant who would drop everything at the mere hint of being needed. In any case, she _wasn’t_ needed.

She told herself she didn’t care, that it was fine, when Cat dropped by unexpectedly a few weeks later for a private meeting with James. Nobody even told her Cat was coming. When she’d confronted James about it afterward, he’d been just as confused. “I thought Cat would’ve told you, that you already knew,” he’d said. It was the only answer anyone could provide.

So she nearly kept flying when she heard the distinct sound of Cat’s laughter one evening as she was on her way home from a routine rescue mission. It almost tore her out of the sky.

Kara hovered uncertainly in the air, drawn to the source of the sound but afraid to close the short distance. She could hear another woman too - a voice bright and sharp like a brass bell. The waves of their laughter crested on the same breath of air, laced tightly together.

Five months ago, green-eyed jealousy would have seared through Kara’s gut like kryptonite. Now all that remained was the faint echo of a habitual ache. She should leave, she thought. It was none of her business.

But that phantom tug left her no choice; it drove her forward and before she knew it, her boots were touching down on the rooftop bar of some fancy hotel, her legs propelling her towards where Cat had her hand on the forearm of a gorgeous blonde.

“Cat,” she said evenly, stopping several body lengths away but in full view of the other patrons. Their heads were beginning to turn, and she saw a few people take out their phones to record the encounter.

She didn’t want this.

“May I interrupt?” Kara asked.

Cat had let go of her companion now. Her eyes were clouded, uncertain, but Kara saw a faint tilt of her head and took that as permission. She closed the final gap between them, put her arms around Cat’s waist, and lifted off.

Despite the ball of stiff resentment that Kara held in her chest, she still knew better than to carry Cat off bridal style in full view of an audience. Cat would never forgive her for that indignity. But a minute or two of lifting Cat through the air in what was essentially a full body hug with Cat’s arms wound tightly around her neck, Kara wondered if this was the best idea. She could hear the quickened pace of Cat’s pounding heart, and the way she was trying to breathe evenly.

For some reason it reminded Kara of when she’d first met Cat as Supergirl – that had also involved a midair abduction – though that time there had been a car between them. Now, she was painfully aware that the only thing between them was her supersuit and Cat’s exquisitely thin silk blouse. A reluctant warmth crept into her chest and she held Cat tighter in her arms.

“Kara,” she heard Cat say, the name brushing softly against her neck before the wind whipped it away, “where are we going?” _Kara._ Not Supergirl.

Cat knew, then. She’d known all along. But Kara didn’t reply until minutes later when their feet touched the balcony of Cat’s former office.

Cat looked around and her face was annoyingly unreadable. The question that finally emerged was dry and somewhat amused. “Here?” she asked.

“Just helping you keep your promises, Cat.” Kara tried to keep her tone light but an edge that hadn’t been there before cut through regardless, one she regretted the moment she heard it in her own voice.

The balcony was darker than either of them were used to. All the other times a warm light from Cat’s office had bathed them in a golden glow. But James had gone home for the day and the office was empty; only the lights of the National City skyline offered any illumination. Kara used it to study Cat’s face.

It was good to see Cat, despite everything. Her eyes were a darker shade of green than usual, her make-up flawless. The night air blew an errant strand of hair askew and Kara ached to reach out and touch it. After a moment, she had to look away. The air was silent between them, and Kara felt pinned by Cat’s gaze. She didn’t want to feel like that, just as she didn’t want tears pricking her eyes in that moment. That was what Kara did. She – Supergirl – had always been Cat Grant’s equal.

Cat turned away and looked out towards the skyline, leaning against the railing as Kara had seen her do so many times before. For a long time she leaned there saying nothing, giving away nothing, so that Kara wondered if she was going to speak at all.

“I’ve given you everything I know how to give you,” Cat said eventually, staring straight ahead into the darkness.

It was a quiet admission, the sort Kara had heard Cat make only once before. She saw in the tense lines of Cat’s silhouette how much it had cost to say that.

“What exactly do you want from me, Kara?”

The naked honesty in the question hit her like a slap. It made her breath catch and her fists clench from the sheer rawness of it.

“I want…” She didn’t want to say it. But Kara felt compelled somehow to match Cat’s honesty with her own, to step in front of Cat’s vulnerability and shield it with hers. “I want… everything, Cat. Everything you know how to give me, and everything else too.”

Kara thought it might be the bravest thing she’d ever said to Cat. It might even be the bravest thing she’d ever done, apart from stepping into that pod and saying goodbye to all that she knew. It felt much the same. Once again, she was hurtling through empty space toward an unknown land.

Cat looked at her, said nothing, and Kara could only guess at the feelings behind those burning eyes.

“I don’t know if I can give you that,” Cat said, after a long breathless pause. And it was in her voice that Kara could finally catch a glimpse of what lay beneath the words: wonder, sadness, and something more. “I don’t know how this would begin… or end.”

It was too much, too dense, these feelings in her chest, this rising fear that her heart and her honesty were not enough. It was the terrifying possibility that Cat might let this fragile thing fall and shatter, this thing between them that was exquisite and delicate like spun glass.

So Kara did what she’d always done best in these situations.

“What if we kissed?” The question was thrust forward in Kara Danvers’ awkward voice, strangely at odds with the cape draped gracefully over her shoulders. “I mean… w-would it be okay with you? If we did that?”

The corners of Cat’s lips turned upward in amusement. “Are you asking permission to kiss me, Kara?”

“I… yes. Can I kiss you, Cat? Please?”

Kara wondered whether it was the daring or desperation in her voice that finally woke the hunger that was now swirling in Cat’s gaze.

“Come here,” Cat said.

Cat’s low voice, the sharp imperative, and her own desire – they all formed the invisible leash that impelled Kara forward; she could no more resist the pull than if its fibres were made from kryptonite.

She stepped forward, and Cat’s left hand slipped under her cape to rest on her lower back, pulling her closer, while her right hand reached up to grasp Kara’s chin. Cat examined her face for a moment, as if reading or memorizing her like a page, before her own lips parted and she claimed Kara’s mouth. It began as a hungry kiss, wet and open mouthed. Her tongue immediately sought entry, and Kara parted her lips automatically. The feeling of Cat’s tongue stroking hers wrenched a soft moan from her throat. Involuntarily her hands moved to clutch at Cat’s blouse. Cat gripped her jaw tighter, and the fingers on her other hand dug into Kara’s hip briefly before letting go. Kara felt her breath hitch as Cat’s hand entangled itself in Kara’s cape, her fingers bunching up the material.

After a time, the kiss eased into something softer, more tender. Yet Kara’s desperate grip on Cat’s silk blouse didn’t relax – the sweetness was destroying her just as completely as the hunger from before.

In the aftermath, when they’d finally stopped, arms dropping loosely to sides, breathing labored, Kara felt bolder. Every nerve felt alive with feeling, and her body thrummed with triumph and wanting.

“ _This_ is how it begins,” she said, and there was certainty in her voice.

Cat looked at her, a fondness in her gaze that almost hurt Kara physically. “This is how it begins,” she allowed. “But can you handle how it ends?”

Kara kept silent. ‘What do you mean?’ she could have asked. Or, ‘Why does there have to be an end?’ But they were questions better left unasked, especially when she didn’t particularly want to hear the answers.

Instead, she replied: “I’ve lived through a lot of endings, Cat. I survived the ending of my world. And one day, I’ll also survive…” Kara stopped. Cat could see the effort she made to keep going, to steady her voice.

“I’m flattered, Kara,” Cat said after it became apparent that she wasn’t going to continue, “That you would compare the loss of me to the loss of an entire planet.” She paused, clearly struggling to suppress the habit of hiding behind sarcasm, of speaking with devastating levity. “I’m more than flattered. I’m… moved.” Cat sighed and tried again, an exasperated tone creeping in. “But if you can’t even articulate what you fear to lose, how can you hope to survive it?”

Still, Kara said nothing, so Cat continued prodding. “What exactly will you survive, Kara? The day I lose interest and move on to a pretty new assistant, one who brings me my latte at exactly the right temperature? Or the day my ridiculously high expectations and insatiable demands for perfect coffee and superhuman service finally drive you away? Or perhaps, Kara, will it be the tragic but inevitable day this dazzling but all-too-human body finally gives out in spite of my weekly detoxes and pilates routines?”

It hurt, of course. But, as always, Cat’s words held the edge of truth, and Kara respected them, accepted them. Kara took a deep breath and tasted the crisp night air as it passed into her lungs. It was lighter, sweeter than the air on Krypton. She sometimes forgot that.

When she met Cat’s stare again, there existed in her own eyes a steely-eyed self-knowledge. “I’m not asking for promises, Cat.”

“Then what _are_ you asking for, Kara?”

“Time,” she replied steadily. “I’m just asking for some time.”

There was no expectation or hope in the way she looked at Cat – only barely hidden devotion and the desire to be by her side for a little longer. 

Kara quirked her mouth into a teasing smile. “Well,” she added. “Kisses too. Time and kisses. And… things that follow on from kisses.”

Cat’s smile, so rarely given this freely, this openly, was beautiful. To Kara, it was brighter than the stars. “I suppose I can spare a little of that for you, Supergirl,” Cat said.

And it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to kara-lesbihonest for excellent edits and inappropriate support.


End file.
